


It Was Just a Scratch

by Francowitch, otayuriistheliteralbest



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M, Sad Ending, Sickfic, Survival, Zombie Apocalypse, otayurigiftexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 14:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Francowitch/pseuds/Francowitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuriistheliteralbest/pseuds/otayuriistheliteralbest
Summary: Otabek had no idea how everything went to hell so fast. One day things were going great, life was normal and he was preparing for another season of skating… the next they were all just trying to survive one day at a time, scrounging and fighting, avoiding getting eaten or killed. Among it all, the only thing Otabek could think of was how he was going to make his way to Russia, to his Yuri.





	It Was Just a Scratch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rina236](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina236/gifts).



> This fic was written for the Otayuri Gift Exchange. My prompt from @yoisickfics was "I’d love to read a fanfic with Otayuri in a zombie apocalypse AU, where Otabek finds Yuri, but he’s really badly injured and he thinks he would die (he also gets a fever too high to even think straight), but Beka takes care of him." I don't do horror and zombies, so I asked Francowitch if she would co-write this fic with me, and this is what we came up with! We hope you enjoy, and PLEASE mind the tags! - Anna (otayuriistheliteralbest)

   Otabek had no idea how everything went to hell so fast. One day things were going great, life was normal and he was preparing for another season of skating… the next they were all just trying to survive one day at a time, scrounging and fighting, avoiding getting eaten or killed.

   It started with the cell towers, why did it always start with the cell towers? It was always like that in the zombie movies Yuri loved so much, and Otabek thought that was such a stereotype until it happened for real. Communication died everywhere, making it nearly impossible to contact the outside world.

   Otabek had been on Skype with Yuri when it happened. They were making plans for Otabek’s trip the following day to visit Russia, and Otabek smiled as he watched Yuri stalk around in his room half naked, his golden hair damp from his shower as he showed off the new clothes he had purchased especially for Otabek. It was his way to torture Otabek when all they could do was talk online, but soon the two would be together,  _ finally _ in the same space together again. Yuri was just enjoying one last moment of being able to torture Otabek before he left. He called it ‘giving Otabek a bit of inspiration for his travels.’

   They were midway through their conversation, and Otabek was confirming his flight plans when everything went dark. Otabek swore as the screen went black; the stupid old laptop needed a new battery, which meant that any blackout meant no system, everything just went down. He really should have listened to Yuri every time he complained about the old thing, but it was just the computer he used for chatting with Yuri. His good system for mixing was in another room, top of the line… or as close to it as he could afford, anyway.

   Otabek could hear the massive surge protector beeping in the other room, letting him know he only had a few moments of juice left to back shit up before there was nothing left to power his equipment. Closing the lid of his laptop, Otabek got up from the hardwood floor to check on the studio and shut everything down properly.

   Otabek sighed as he trekked into the living room; checking out the window, he could see that the whole city block was out. Maybe even further than that, but that was as far as he could see. He hummed to himself as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, grateful that it was fully charged. He flipped through his contacts and pressed a button to call Yuri back, but the line was busy. He didn’t think too much on it, since Yuri just probably called Mila to complain to her that Otabek’s power had cut out again. Otabek grabbed the flashlight he kept for emergencies under the kitchen sink and wandered back to his room to finish packing for his trip to see Yuri. He had only a few hours before his flight was set to leave, and he had to get everything packed and set to go.

   Without having the distraction of Yuri and Skype, Otabek was able to get ready in record time. He wasn't being distracted by chatter. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it, he loved everything that Yuri had to say. He would often find himself forgetting what it was he was doing the moment that the Russian opened his mouth to speak.

   Otabek took one last look around his darkened room before slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder. Hopefully the power would be back on soon, but even if it wasn’t it would be fine. Otabek was grateful that in his preparing to travel, he had already used up the last of his perishables that morning.

   He didn’t think that it would have been the last time he would see the place when he stepped out of the apartment and made his way to the ground floor. Perhaps then he would have prepared better, knowing what was coming. Otabek would have packed better, and warmer, instead of with the idea of a week of clubbing and sex with his boyfriend.

   ***

   Yuri swore as his connection to Otabek on Skype died and slammed the laptop shut in frustration. “Fucking Beka and his shitty laptop! How many times do I tell him to just get a new one?”

   Yuri looked over to Potya, who was lying on the bed grooming himself, ignoring his master’s ranting as usual. Yuri pulled one of Otabek’s hoodies over his head before storming to where he had last tossed his phone earlier that night. He pressed the auto dial button for Otabek. His face lit up on the screen showing that it was ringing, only to have the call not go through. The loud sound of a busy signal beeped in Yuri’s ear suddenly, making Potya’s hair stand on end.

   “Hush, Potya,” Yuri crooned as he pet the upset cat. “I am sure that Beka is just running around getting ready for his flight. Maybe his mom called and that is why the line is busy.”

   Yuri flopped back on the bed, Potya giving a disgruntled meow as he felt the bed shift so violently. Yuri’s mind went over all the things he still needed to get done, there was shopping for some food, although he was tempted to just let it wait until Otabek was here. That way he got exactly what they wanted to eat and he couldn't complain that it was all just what Yuri enjoyed. Rolling to his side on the comforter, Yuri checked his phone with one eye cracked. He had enough time to get at least what they would need for that night, that way they could just come straight home from the airport and not have to worry about extras like food until the next day. This way they could spend all day in bed and not feel guilty about it.

   With a sigh, Yuri heaved himself out of the bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, quickly running a brush through his long hair before throwing it back in a messy pony tail. He tried to call Otabek once more, but it still gave him the busy signal. Yuri growled at his phone, stuffing it into his jeans pocket. He slipped his feet into his shoes and threw on a leather jacket over Otabek’s hoodie before stepping out of his apartment to pick up a few things for dinner.

   As Yuri stepped out of the apartment and into the hallway, all the power went out on his block. He was too engrossed in attempting to shoot off a text to Otabek to notice as he took the stairs two at a time. The lights in the stairwell ran on a generator and stayed lit as Yuri plowed ever downward. He was so used to taking the stairs in his apartment complex that he didn’t realize that the elevator was out as well. It wasn’t until he had reached the supermarket on the corner of his that he even noticed that there was anything wrong at all.

   ***

   Otabek was exhausted after weeks of trekking. Almaty to St. Petersburg was a five hour flight and over forty-five hundred kilometres, nothing at all for plane travel but a hell of a trip by foot. A normal person, on learning that the world had come to an end, would have likely given up, and perhaps holed up at home or with family. But all Otabek could think of was how he needed to get to Yuri as fast as he could. He knew that Yuri had no one else in St. Petersburg to care for him, what with Viktor now in Japan with his husband and his  _ dedushka  _ dying the year before. It had been Otabek’s intention to move to Russia after he retired from skating that season. This situation... had never been part of their future plans.

   Otabek had been very lucky through parts of the trek, as there had been a lot of people trying to leave the cities who were willing to give him a ride for as long a stretch as their voyages allowed. It enabled him to get to the border with little incident, and cut his months-long trek down to just a couple weeks. He also learned early on what kind of world they were now living in from conversations with the travelers willing to give him a ride.

   It was now a world where the dead walked, but it was nothing like the films, and Otabek quickly learned that killing a zombie in reality was much more difficult than Hollywood would have you believe. He just had to keep hope that he could survive long enough to get to Yuri, and that Yuri had been able to stay safe himself.   

   ***   

   “Did you hear what they said on the news?”

   “It’s like something out of those horror movies they make nowadays…”

   “People are getting bitten and this weird fever chill and changing.”

   “It’s like they’re not human anymore.”   

   Yuri heard the murmurs and fear in people's’ voices at the corner market. Normally he would just ignore them, but the store was running on a backup generator and their overhead fluorescent lights flickered dimly. The store was only accepting cash because all of their electronics were down, and Yuri couldn’t get reception on his phone anymore, not since his before Skype call with Otabek. The text to Otabek - all of his texts, because he had tried a half dozen times at this point - wouldn’t go through, and left him with those annoying red warning labels on all of them, screaming at him that the messages couldn’t go through.

   Yuri was starting to panic just a little bit, and stocked up on more food than he had originally planned to get, thankful that he had pulled out cash the day before. He bought anything that would keep for longer than a couple of days and didn’t require being cooked or refrigerated.   

   Basket in tow, Yuri hurriedly paid the old man behind the register for it all and hoofed it back to his apartment complex. The night seemed perfectly normal, except for the eerie lack of light. Almost the entire city was cast in darkness, the only illumination coming from buildings with backup generators. Yuri wondered how long those would last. He shivered and hugged Otabek’s sweater tightly against his body.

   Otabek had to be okay. He  _ had _ to be. Otabek was a fighter, a survivor. Yuri wondered how long it would take for Otabek to realize what had happened, if he had made it to the airport. If the plane could even fly, if what people were saying was true. What if he was stuck or trying to make it out to Russia still? Knowing his lovable idiot, Otabek was likely going to do whatever he could do to get to Yuri, so rather than going anywhere, Yuri resolved to hole up and stay home. And hopefully everything would blow over, allowing them to reunite.

   ***

   It had been two whole weeks of being completely alone, besides Potya, trying to get a signal on an old radio his grandfather had left behind when he passed away, trying to find out just what was happening in the world. All Yuri could get were the emergency stations stating how there were no flights, all cell phone towers were down, and most importantly  _ do not panic _ . All of which made Yuri snort and shake his head.

   So far he had been alright, rationing out his food so that he didn’t have to make too many trips outside. Each time he had to leave his apartment was a risk. He could hear moans and banging in other apartments, sounds which did not sound right or normal and made his skin crawl as he slipped past the other apartments and down the stairwell. His phone was long dead, and he had given up trying to call or text Otabek after the second day with no signal. There was no way to communicate with anyone in the outside world, and he was stuck living with the dread and hope that they would be reunited before Yuri had no choice but to move out of the city to somewhere safer. He would stay in his apartment for as long as he could.

   It just sucked as he was not feeling well since his last food run, but Yuri knew that he needed to get more water since the taps weren’t completely safe, before he was left with nothing. Yuri calculated how long it would take if Otabek were to walk all the way from Almaty, if he didn’t have his motorcycle or a car - it would be several months for him to get to St Petersburg. And knowing the _Hero of Kazakhstan_ , he would definitely figure out some way of getting back to Yuri.

   Yuri carefully picked his way through the empty streets and found himself outside the corner market close to his apartment complex; it was one of the few convenience stores that had not yet been totally stripped, in part because the nice old man who owned it also owned a  _ lot  _  of guns and ammo. Yuri twirled a bat he had modified with one of his old skating blades to keep threats away. He learned after almost being killed early on that he needed to be able to defend himself. Not only from the walking dead, but also from the looters who were out looking for a piece of ass. People were desperate and would take advantage of any chance they got.

   Yuri tapped on the glass with his modified baseball bat and waited to see if anything moved in the darkened store.  _ Where was the old man? _ Yuri was cautious, but when there wasn’t any movement from inside the store, he was positive that it was safe, old man or no. Yuri went inside. There was a bell which jingled cheerfully as he opened the door making him suck in a breath and stand still waiting and listening for the familiar sound of shuffling and moaning. How had he forgotten about that damned thing?

   Quickly Yuri began to move through the aisles, pulling out a few bags from his knapsack so he could grab anything he could possibly need. As he moved through the aisles, he felt a wave of dizziness which made him stagger. Yuri threw out a hand to steady himself before he doubled over, his stomach emptying out in front of the jars of pickles. His meager breakfast of a granola bar and water splattered on the floor. Roughly and messily, Yuri wiped at his face before feeling the world tilt off axis. Yuri managed a slew of curses as he fell, taking the shelves of pickles with him, heavy jars tumbling on his body as blackness took over.

   The last thing he could remember was the sound of growling and one of those damn creatures sniffing him out --  _ Oh, there’s the nice old man. Not so nice now, I guess. _ \-- his  mind was on Otabek as Yuri expected to die.

   ***

   Otabek was exhausted, but somehow he had managed to make it into St. Petersburg in a little over two weeks. Between the assistance of some escaping their cities, hotwiring some cars himself and taking more risky routes through forested areas and across farms, Otabek had managed to make it in a quarter of the time he had expected.

   The city from outside looked like an absolute ruin: black smoke billowed from various buildings, and the smell of decay wafted in the air. Looking over it, Otabek could only feel a sense of dread. Somehow Yuri had to be in there. He hoped that Yuri, his vibrant and feisty boyfriend, had figured out a way to survive and wait for him. Taking a deep breath, Otabek steeled himself as he made his way down the road to Yuri’s complex, hoping that he could make it safely to the apartment with little trouble.

   Otabek was about two blocks from the apartment when he heard a resounding crash from the depths of one of the shops. Otabek crouched down, scanning the area for any movement before moving in closer to investigate. He saw there was something moving inside the darkened corner store. One of the shelves was down, but overall the shop looked rather well stocked, which was surprising. Biting his lip, Otabek decided the single ‘Walker was worth the risk, and pulling a crowbar he had stolen on the way from Almaty from his belt loop, he opened the door.

   The bell above the door jingled, causing Otabek to stiffen at his stupidity for not checking beforehand. He rearranged his grip on the crowbar as he saw the shambling ‘Walker’s form turn and start to make its way towards the noise and potential of a fresh meal. Otabek swung the bar around in his hand, gritting his teeth and readying himself for impact. He was exhausted from a solid two weeks of trekking and had been hoping to avoid fighting anyone or anything, but for some actual food that wasn’t scavenged, he was willing to take this one out.

   His first swing fell a bit short, landing on the creature’s shoulder, and making it stumble. Otabek was about to take a second swing when there was a cough from underneath the fallen shelf amidst the broken jars. Otabek turned out of the way, barely avoiding the ‘Walker’s snapping jaws, pushing it away from him with a rough kick. It stumbled back and fell, allowing Otabek a few moments to catch his breath and check the noise that had distracted him. One ‘Walker he could handle, for the most part, on his own. Two would be… difficult.

   Another cough came from under the fallen shelf, making Otabek’s heart pick up speed, and a cold fear run through his veins. There was something familiar about the cough. Peeking around the corner he saw a shimmer of gold hair. Gold stained a reddish-brown with blood. He heard a groan from behind him, and Otabek turned to face the ‘Walker once more. With a feral yell, he swung his crowbar and hit home, crushing in the head and ensuring that the creature wouldn’t move again. Satisfied that it wouldn’t come after him again, Otabek rushed over to the fallen shelf and carefully started to shift through the broken glass which littered the aisle. A cough broke the silence followed by a slurred curse in Russian.   

   “Yura?” Otabek asked in a hushed tone, not wanting to call any more of the undead to their location. He glanced around to reassure himself that no one else was in the little corner convenience store.

   There was a moan in response, not like the dead, but definitely sounding like someone suffering. Otabek could feel the rush of blood in his ears as he frantically dug through the shattered glass and food, hoping that he wasn’t too late.

   ***

   Yuri wasn’t sure how long he had been on the ground. Everything around him smelt like brine and vomit. His head was throbbing and there was the distinct sound of moans and groaning.  _ Fucking pig and baldy are at it again. _ Yuri coughed and his head was pounding.  _ The hell is happening? _ He felt disoriented and didn’t understand why he was lying on a hard, tiled floor.  _ This isn’t Viktor’s apartment... _

   Yuri heard his name, and the voice sounded familiar but who was it again? It sounded so distant, and there was a high pitched ringing sound in his ears that he just couldn’t shake.

   Yuri coughed once more, and croaked,  _ “Dedushka?” _

   There was a shuffling noise, some curses that definitely would never have come from his  _ dedushka _ ’s mouth, and then the heavy weight on Yuri’s chest and legs lifted and smell of pickles seemed to be gone. The cold and wet place he had been in before was now warm and... weightless, for lack of a better word. He couldn’t think straight. Someone kept mumbling at him, and it was soothing. If only he could understand what they were saying. Blackness soon took back over as Yuri passed out in the other person’s arms.

   ***

   Yuri’s fever didn’t seem like the one that came over ‘Walkers before they turned, thank god. Otabek snatched medicine from the shelves and stuffed the little bottles and packets into his jacket pockets, anything that he thought might be useful and then some, before hauling Yuri up into his arms and carrying him the few short blocks to his apartment complex. Otabek was grateful that despite his height, Yuri wasn’t too heavy to carry back to the apartment. 

   There had been so much blood,  _ so much _ , which had Otabek worried that Yuri might have been bitten. Rather than checking for wounds among the shattered glass and pickle brine, Otabek just picked him up gingerly and got him out of there. The whole way back, Yuri drifted in and out of consciousness, calling for his grandfather and whimpering as he clung to Otabek.

   Otabek snuck in a side entrance to the apartment building that he and Yuri had often taken after a night at the clubs in town. The memory clung to Otabek, and his heart burned for that simple life again. He shook his head at his folly - there was no going back, not now - and took the stairs two at a time, pausing around every corner to listen for more ‘Walkers. He safely made it to Yuri’s apartment door with no trouble, and fumbled in Yuri’s jacket pockets for his keys with a shaking hand. He rushed them in and locked the door behind them, taking a big gulp of air in relief before finally bringing himself to assess Yuri’s condition.

   Not caring about the blood, Otabek hurried Yuri into the bedroom, snatching two mostly-clean towels from the bathroom on the way. Potya had been lounging on the bed when they entered the room, and the cat jumped up, hissing at the intrusion. His yellow eyes squinted as he watched Otabek place the towels over the bedspread, laying Yuri down as gently as he could. Otabek leaned in to ensure that Yuri was still breathing; he was, thankfully, but the heat that was radiating off of him was intense from the man’s fever. Yuri moaned as Otabek touched his forehead. He needed to get this fever down. He did not trek all the way across both of their countries to let it all end this way.

   Otabek went to the bathroom to check the taps, but nothing came out.  _ Of course there’s nothing,  _ Otabek scolded himself, _ it’s been weeks, there was no way that he would have running water in the apartment. _ Otabek sighed and looked around, his head tilting in surprise as he saw the bathtub held buckets of water.

   “Smart Kitten,” Otabek murmured to himself.

   Otabek took a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with some of the water that Yuri had been wise enough to save. He returned to the bedroom with it and a washcloth and began wringing the cloth and carefully dabbing at Yuri’s fevered skin, wiping way brine and blood. Every time he saw Yuri moan or cringe in his fever dream, Otabek winced and mumbled apologies.

   Every time the bowl became too clouded with blood and grime, Otabek would go back to the bathroom to refill with fresh water. It took a while, but eventually Otabek had cleaned every inch of Yuri, stripping away every layer ensuring that the only real wound was the bump on his head, likely from the fall, and the cuts from the glass. Otabek carefully dressed Yuri in one of his favorite pairs of tiger print lounge pants and one of Otabek’s own sweatshirts that had been long since claimed by the blond. Gently, he picked Yuri back up and tucked him into the bed, causing another disgruntled sound to burst from the siamese cat who had remained on the bed throughout Otabek’s ministrations to his master.

   “Oh hush, now,” Otabek whispered. “All is going to be alright, I’m back and I will make sure you get fed and that Yura is taken care of. SIlly beast.”

   Otabek gave an affectionate pet to Potya, who leaned into his fingers with a purr, his earlier annoyance swiftly forgotten. Otabek gazed down at Yuri, memorizing the lines of his face. He got up after a few moments, realizing that he should clean himself up a bit then empty the blond’s knapsack, which he had managed to grab in his scramble to get Yuri to safety. Otabek hoped to find some soup or something which Yuri could consume once he got some rest. As he went to the bathroom to clean up, he heard a whimper from the bed. Immediately his heart pounded, Otabek changed his plans, washing only his hands and then making his way back to the living area where he had dumped the packs.

   There hadn’t been much, clearly Yuri had not had enough time to scour the shop before the shelf had fallen onto him. But thankfully one of the canned goods that Yuri had managed to snag was a chicken soup, which claimed to have ‘real chunks of chicken’ in it. Otabek jumped up from the floor and made his way to the tiny kitchen. He glanced around the grimy countertops and noted with relief that Yuri had a group of candles and a pack of matches sitting by the stove, allowing him to have a bit of light in the dim kitchen.

   Otabek rummaged through the cupboards until he found a small pot and a can opener and quickly got to work. He opened the can, pouring the contents into the pot and reserving some of the chicken for Potya’s dinner. Otabek tested the dials on the stove, happy for once that the old apartment had gas appliances which seemed to still be in working order. Otabek struck a match to light the burner, adding the pot with soup on top of the flame. As the soup heated up, filling the kitchen with a warm and pleasant smell, Otabek whistled for Potya. He placed the bowl with chicken down and refilled the cat’s water dish with some of the bottled water that Yuri had sitting in his now-useless fridge. He went back to the pot, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon he’d found in the drying rack while it heated up.

   When it was warm enough, Otabek poured majority of the broth into one of Yuri’s cups and ate the remainder. He scrunched up his nose at the soggy vegetables, but the exhausted man was definitely not picky enough to refuse a hot meal after weeks of nothing but cold granola and beef jerky. Placing the pot and spoon into the sink, Otabek took the cup of broth and two bottles of water with him to the bedroom where he would try to get Yuri to take in at least something of substance.

   Otabek sighed at the sight of Yuri lying prone in the bed, his face flush as his eyelids fluttered in his fever dream. Otabek sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his blond hair back. Yuri’s nose was scrunched up in that cute way that always made Otabek want to kiss away the little wrinkles and tease him that his face would get stuck that way. Yuri would rolls his eyes and smirk in response, and Otabek would kiss him to the point of distraction. He smiled sadly at the memory.

   “Yura,” Otabek spoke softly. “I have something for you to eat. You need something in you to fight this fever.”

   Yuri moaned and writhed weakly on the bed, his eyebrows furrowed as he let out a small,  _ “Dedushka…” _

   “Please Yura,” Otabek sighed, putting his forehead to Yuri’s. “Please, eat something for me. Come back to me.”

   Yuri opened his eyes, but his gaze was glazed over. He wasn’t really there, but he was at least following some simple instructions. Otabek shifted on the mattress, making the frame creak loudly in the otherwise-silent room, so that he was sitting slightly behind Yuri against the wall, helping him to sit in order to drink some of the warm broth. Otabek ran a soothing hand along Yuri’s arm, murmuring Kazakh poems and stories which his mother would tell him when he was ill as a child, soft hushed words that would bathe him in warmth and love. While he knew that Yuri couldn’t understand them, he hoped that the tone would soothe Yuri in some way.

   ***

   Three days passed like this, Otabek wiping down Yuri, changing his clothing and sheets while coaxing him to drink water and broth. He never seemed to recognize Otabek, his calls often for his grandfather, or even more rarely for the mother he had never spoken about in all the years they had been together. The few times the subject had come up, it was dropped just as quickly. Otabek never knew what had happened to her, or even what her name was, or if she was still alive. Probably not, after this.

   During those three days Otabek had finally noticed that he had not actually come out unscathed in his fight against the ‘Walker in the corner market. As the hours passed, he could feel the fire start to burn through him. Just a small scratch, which he had missed the first day with caring for Yuri. By the time he had recognised it for what it was, it was far too late. The virus burned through him, the nail mark a furious red. Now three days later, Otabek knew that his time was nearing the end. All he wished for,  _ all _ he wanted, was to hear Yuri call him once more by his name. To be recognized once by those beautiful cat-like emerald eyes before Otabek lost all sense of himself to the monster that was taking over his mind.

   Only once in those three days did Otabek leave the safety of Yuri’s apartment, heading back to that infamous corner market where it all happened. He collected supplies needed to help bring the fever down, and ensure that there would something for Yuri for afterwards. 

   Now sitting by his bedside, watching and waiting for the fever to break, Otabek hoped that there would be a later, an afterwards for Yuri. That he would have the time to at least say his goodbyes properly before all sense left him. Otabek was certain that right now the only thing keeping him moving was the sheer force of will, not wanting to leave Yuri to suffer alone. So he knew that Otabek had tried, had traveled so far to be with him. Only for it all to go so very wrong.

   Otabek chuckled softly to himself as he brushed back Yuri’s golden hair. 

   “All I want is for you to see me at least once, Yura. I walked all the way from Almaty for you, and here you are lying down the whole time with your eyes closed and your mind elsewhere. Please just once, just open your eyes for me, baby. I love you.”

   Otabek felt his own fever rush over him, his body shuddering as pain swept throughout his core. He knew instinctively that it would not be long before he would lose all of his sense of self.  _ Not yet. He hasn’t seen me. Not yet, please, not yet... _

   Otabek watched as Yuri seemed to sigh and his face took on a look of peace for the first time in days. Tilting his head, Otabek checked Yuri’s temperature with the back of his hand, frowning as his own blazing skin could no longer tell the difference.  _ Shit. _ Otabek noticed how sleepy he was becoming, his eyelids drooping from the exhaustion of the past...weeks? Months? How long had it been, now, since the end of the world? Perhaps a small nap would be all he needed, and then he could go look for the thermometer which was kept... somewhere. His thoughts started to jumble as he laid down beside Yuri, who somehow managed to still smell like fresh linen in the midst of an apocalypse with no shower in sight.

   “My Yura,” Otabek sighed as he curled up against Yuri.

   Somewhere deep inside, his instincts were screaming at him to leave the room. The apartment. The city, before he could do any damage, but his body was so  _ heavy _ .  _ A bit of rest couldn’t be all that bad, _ Otabek thought as he threw an arm around Yuri with a heavy sigh. At least if he had to go, this was how he wanted, to be in the arms of the person he loved most in this world.  _ Perhaps next time it would turn out differently. Next time... _

   ***

   Yuri felt as though he had been floating, as though his body were adrift in the open ocean. As the waves crashed over him, there would be moments that he felt he was being held, fluids being forced into him while all he wanted was to surrender to the calm that was the darkness. Time no longer felt like it had any meaning, it was just snippets of feelings. Familiar scents and caresses which were hard for him to put into place.

   There was also the constant of a voice. _Who was that?_ _Dedushka? No._ What was he forgetting?

   The fog in his mind began to clear, and Yuri found himself yearning for that steady voice, the raw scent of spice and musk which pulled him up from the dreamless black to drift just below the surface of the water. Yuri found that he was starting to fight the dark, and craving more of those low, unfamiliar words. The crooning which pulled at his heart and called his soul back from what felt like an abyss.

   His mind finally broke through the ocean deep, and Yuri’s body began to cool down. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking blearily in his confusion. He was in the market last he remembered. The shelf. The pickles. The ‘Walker! _Shit!_    

   Yuri’s eyes snapped open, the pale light of the afternoon filtering into his room. Wait, what? His room, his very familiar bedroom, which smelt of his detergent, Potya, and... Otabek? It took Yuri a moment to register that he was in bed, a very familiar weight resting against him. Yuri felt his heart leap as he recognized the sound of Otabek’s breathing.

   Yuri shifted in the bed, stealing a look to the man who he wanted to share his life with. Otabek looked tired, his chin was covered in a bristle that told Yuri that he had not shaved in a very long time. Yuri reached out his hand lightly, caressing Otabek’s cheek, only to find that the man was burning up. Otabek’s eyes snapped open. There was a moment, a split  _ moment _ of recognition before the eerie sound of a growl escaped his lips.

   “...Beka?”


End file.
